The Ethereal Ascent
The Ethereal Ascent The air in the room is violently still, creating a heavy pressure. She has long stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here is not a sequence but a weight. The waiting room has fractured; the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum flooring splinters into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream. High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly blues vibrate as if hardened walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege, a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She looks out, as if just awakened, and does the only thing left to recollect. She breathes. She waits. She waits for the shards to align once more. Be Creative and Innovative wit...


And ironically I found this post through Twitter while sitting down to write a post myself.
ReplyDeleteI agree, it's a constant battle to stay on track. When I'm working I often shut Twitter off completely, those little flashes that something new has arrived are too tempting. I try to deal with email twice a day - when I get up I go through and delete, then at the end of the day I answer things I've had a chance to think about.
At least that's the aim!